The School of Dreams

By Julia Sutton

Sophie is a beautiful housewife on the brink of a midlife crisis, unhappy with her errant husband. Juliette, a romantic and passionate optimist, struggles to make ends meet in a society that stereotypes single mothers.

Evelyn, a shy and modest novelist is looking for the university to help her step out of the shadows. Ann, after being disabled after a serious accident, yearns for fulfillment in a cruel world that has robbed her of happiness.

And then there's Will - a rebellious and idealistic teenager, who longs to sever the shackles of family and religion.

As five paths collide in a story of empowerment, romance and quest for fulfillment, they're presented with the same question: what is your dream?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Next Chapter
• Release date: Jan 22, 2022
• ISBN: 4867528528

Book preview

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank all at Next Chapter and especially Miika Hannila, for giving me this opportunity and for the help, support and advice.

Thank you to my husband Stephen and two children Jack and Issy, for their encouragement and for listening to me read parts of the book.

I dedicate this novel to my wonderful parents, Barry and Helen.

Nefelibata: 'Cloud Walker', one who lives in the clouds of their own imagination or dreams or one who does not obey the conventions of society; an unconventional, unorthodox person.

Welcome to the City of Chattlesbury, England

In this, our fair city, learning is the key. We can open minds and hearts. Learning enables us to be free.

Chapter One

Sophie

Kids, breakfast is nearly ready. Sophie stood at the bottom of the winding staircase and yelled. Hopefully her voice would carry into their bedrooms and over the hum and drone of TVs and X-Boxes. A few minutes later there was a clatter from upstairs, doors opening, feet stomping, and then twin boys tore into the kitchen swinging their school bags high above their heads.

What's for breakfast Mom? Asked eight-year-old Jake.

Can I have orange juice? Josh demanded at the same time.

Eggs and soldiers Jake and yes Josh, there's orange on the table. Sophie pulled her silk dressing gown tighter around her, then continued flicking the egg yolks with bubbling water.

Is your dad up yet? She asked, without looking around.

Dunno, said Josh as he poured juice into a Monsters Inc. plastic beaker. Sophie sighed. Ryan O'Neill, her husband of ten years, was a lazy good for nothing, she thought sourly. Last night he had promised he would be the one to get up this morning and see to the boys, so she could have a lie in. Yet here she was, in the kitchen again. Thank god the cleaner was coming in half an hour. She could tidy up the breakfast things and put the washing in, plus there was a mountain of ironing to be done. Sophie yawned, it had been a heavy night last night. They had entertained friends and after a three-course meal, courtesy of 'Spice of India', they had partied until two o'clock.

That's when Ryan had promised to do more with the boys, a drunken declaration in front of friends. Sophie knew she had been nagging him a lot these past couple of weeks, but sometimes she felt like a single parent. Today was no exception. The eggs hissed in the pan and Sophie transferred them to slices of overcooked toast, then set them down in front of the boys. She shuffled into the large utility room searching around in the medicine cabinet for Alka-Seltzer; she needed something to settle her stomach sharpish. Her mouth felt dry and her head was pounding. Too many bottles of Chardonnay were overturned in the sink; she looked at them with a grimace. Hadn't that been her New Year's resolution, to cut down on the booze? January seemed a long time ago now though. It was July, warm and sticky already and it was only seven thirty in the morning. Sophie thought about what she could wear today. It was the twin's sports day, she wanted to be cool but classy. She swallowed down the Alka-Seltzer, then padded back into the kitchen. Josh had turned on the TV; Cartoon Network blared out, making her pounding head feel even worse.

Mom, can I have jam sandwiches? Asked Jake, between mouthfuls of runny egg. Sophie nodded and grunted a reply. She peered into the cupboard and extracted a half open loaf of bread. Food shopping was also on the agenda today, a trip to Waitrose was required to replenish the fridge. Although she herself ate little and was currently on the cabbage water diet, where she had successfully lost seven pounds off her petite, size ten frame, Josh, Jake and Ryan however, were forever snacking. Sophie opened the huge American style fridge, taking out margarine and a large pot of supermarket best brand jam. She smeared it on the bread, generously thick, then searched in the cupboard for lunchtime snacks.

Boys, have you done your homework? No reply, eyes were fixated on the TV

Boys, Sophie yelled. They turned to look at her quizzically, so she had to repeat the question. Still no reply.

So you haven't then, she paused, while two heads shook in unison.

Well what's Miss Marshall going to say now, Sophie sighed. That would be another phone call home from the head teacher. She ran through a list of excuses and couldn't think of any that were plausible. She could try flirting with the Head; she had learnt from experience that men were suckers for flattery and a whiny voice. But Miss Marshall, well she was a different kettle of fish. At the last parents evening, Sophie had been intimidated by the older woman with the stern voice and the piercing eyes. God knows how the kids found her. Although Sophie had to admit that her twin's boisterous behaviour had certainly calmed down since they had been in her class.

You both need to read now, Sophie decided. Josh and Jake pulled faces at their mother but obediently rummaged in sturdy school bags for their reading books. Thank god it was nearly the end of term, Sophie thought as she scribbled her signature in their reading diaries.

While they read above the din of the TV, Sophie listened distractedly, rubbing her head with one hand and her stomach with the other. Truthfully, she felt awful and wanted nothing more than to climb back into bed and shove Ryan O'Neill out.

Okay, that's enough boys, she snapped irritably. Their attention was immediately back on the gigantic screen and Sophie felt a pang of guilt. Hangovers and young children were not a good combination; they made her bad tempered for the whole day and tested her patience considerably. No more drinking, she thought firmly as she fetched the dirty plates, plonking them in the sink with a clatter, and then made her way sluggishly up the winding staircase, to her bedroom. On the way she caught sight of herself in the mirror and grimaced. God, she looked awful. Her normally immaculate straight hair had balled into a fluffy mess and last night's make up was crusting on her eyes and cheeks. Spots! She thought with a silent wail. She could hear the sound of heavy breathing and snoring emanating from the bedroom. Her darling husband was lying in the bed, sprawled on his back, with his face turned up towards the ceiling. Sophie snapped on the light, then pulled the wardrobe doors open with a bang. There was a rustling and squeaking from the bed. As she searched through her hanging clothes, he sat up.

Huh, what time is it? Ryan O'Neill croaked.

Seven thirty, Sophie snapped, without turning around. Finally, she decided on something to wear, a polka dot playsuit, which would look good when teamed with her new blue wedges. She laid it on the bed, then searched in her dresser for suitable matching underwear.

Got a bad head have ya? Sophie asked, then without waiting for a response continued, I told you not to start on the whisky.

Ryan groaned and fell back on plump, feather pillows.

How many bottles of wine did you and Clara polish off then? He retaliated.

Well I can take my alcohol, unlike some, she sniffed, "and it doesn't stop me having to get up at seven o'clock with the boys. Angrily, she flung lacy bra and pants on the bed, then stormed into their en suite, to turn on the power shower. It rumbled to life, spraying her arm with cold water, making her jump. Sophie flung her dressing gown on the floor in a heap, then stepped gingerly into the shower cubicle. As she exfoliated, she could hear Ryan's deep snores again. Unbelievable that he could sleep so easily. Sophie herself, suffered from bouts of insomnia, which improved with the help of alcohol. Maybe she shouldn't cut out alcohol completely, she surmised. She washed her hair quickly. She would be taking the kids to school in about forty minutes which meant no time to straighten it; another reason to heighten her bad mood! Sophie snapped off the water and then wrapped herself in a luxurious, fluffy bath sheet before brushing her teeth. She examined her mouth in the steamy mirror. Her teeth were looking a bit off colour, even though she used whitening toothpaste. Maybe she should have them professionally whitened. Mentally, she added this to her to do list.

What's for breakfast? A voice behind startled her. She watched Ryan's reflection as he staggered to the toilet.

Whatever you want to make yourself, she replied crisply, there's eggs, sausage, cereal, toast…

Ryan flushed the chain, What time is Helga coming?

She should be here for nine, why?

I'll ask her to rustle me up a cooked breakfast.

Sophie tutted, shook her head and spat out the minty toothpaste. Helga was their fifty-four-year-old housekeeper, cum general dogsbody. Although it wasn't in her job description to cook for the O'Neill clan exactly, Sophie doubted that she would be able to resist the Irish charm. Ryan knew exactly how to turn it on, to his advantage and there were not many people who were immune to it; herself included. He wound strong arms around his wife and nuzzled her neck. Sophie sighed and stifled a giggle. She was supposed to be mad at her husband, but it was hard to be, when he knew, from years of exploration, where her erogenous zone was!

She playfully slapped his hands away, have you got footy practise today? Ryan groaned and nodded.

Do I have to go?

Well you'd better if you don't want Coach Jones on your case.

Ryan was a professional football player. As a young boy he had been football crazy, spending all his spare time with a ball at his feet. Academically he flagged behind his peers, but at sports he excelled. He found school overall to be boring and unstimulating. He was happiest having a kick about with friends in the park. At the tender age of twelve, he had been scouted by a large, well known Midlands football team. He had joined the academy and had never looked back since. Now he was twenty-eight, in his prime and adored by thousands. Men and women jostled for his autograph as soon as he stepped out of the front door, he had his own aftershave range and a calendar shoot, which had been extremely popular, resulting in millions of pounds' worth of sales. He was certainly riding the crest of a wave in the popularity stakes at the moment, and Sophie hoped and prayed that it may continue.

She had known him since school. At the age of sixteen, after months of wooing, she had succumbed to his Irish charm and dark, Gaelic good looks. Over the years, they had dated and she had fallen deeply in love with him. When they were nineteen, they had splashed out on a trip to Hawaii, where surrounded by friends and family, they had married. Twelve months later, the twins had blessed their life. Now, here they were in a sprawling eight-bedroom mansion, with two dogs and three cats to add to their entourage. Sophie struggled into her expensive underwear. It had been a Christmas present from Ryan. Although the pants fit snugly, the bra was a cup size too tight. Since when had she been a 'C' cup she thought with a flicker of annoyance? – maybe before the twins had been born when she was skinny – but that had been years ago. These days, pregnancy and breast feeding had accentuated her curves to a 'D' cup much to her delight.

Can you make sports day? Sophie asked expectantly.

Ryan shook his head, no can do babe, he retorted, as he clambered back into bed, footy practise, physio and then team lunch. I won't be home until later this afternoon.

Sophie sighed, okay fine, I'll go alone…again. She stepped into her cotton playsuit, pulling it up quickly, then searched in her wardrobe for her wedges. A quick blast of the hairdryer and she was nearly ready. She perched at her dressing room table and smothered on her makeup.

Mom's coming for dinner tonight.

She heard Ryan groan in response, and don't wind her up! She snapped.

I'll be on my best behaviour for sure, Ryan replied cheekily, as he pulled back the duvet slightly to reveal a large erection. Sure you can't come back for a bit?

Sophie grinned and peered at his naked frame. As well as being footy mad, Ryan was also sex mad. Her friends thought that she was dead lucky, but sometimes Ryan's pestering became tiresome. Just lately she had been more tired than usual after a day running around after the kids and the animals. Her libido was in sleep mode. And some nights, even Irish charm could not kick start it. Sophie worried about refusing him though, especially as there was a plethora of eyelash fluttering groupies hanging around at the club. She knew that being a footballer also bought attention from hordes of females who would be only too happy to jump into bed with her charming, handsome husband.

Maybe later, she said with a sultry smile. She grabbed her Gucci handbag and blew him a kiss.

See ya later honey, have a good day.

Ryan grumbled in response, burying himself back under the duvet. Sophie clattered down the stairs, calling Josh and Jake. They raced into the hallway like two whirlwinds.

Have you got your bags and lunches? she hollered, above their enthusiastic singing. A few minutes later, they were yelling goodbye to their dad and charging outside into the sunshine.

The school run was hectic as usual. Sophie weaved her four by four around parked cars, looking for a big enough space. She cursed as a BMW manoeuvred into a space directly in front of her. Sophie honked her horn and was answered by a rude, two fingered salute.

We'll have to go down the side street and walk, she informed the boys, as she turned down the volume on the radio. They groaned in protest.

Look, she said annoyed, I had to walk everywhere when I was your age, it'll do you good.

Get rid of some of that energy, she muttered under her breath. Josh and Jake charged up the street, pretending they were Power Rangers, swinging their lunch boxes high above their heads. Sophie lagged behind, breathless and panting. I really must stop smoking, she thought with a grimace. They reached the lollipop lady just in time, she beckoned them over with a grin and a wave.

Hi Jill, Sophie panted.

Hi Soph, how's your Ryan?

Good thanks, Sophie called, hurrying past.

The school gates were busy, teeming with children and harassed looking parents. The bell rang out shrilly, just in time! Sophie kissed her boys, waving as they skipped up the driveway. She breathed a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging, then turned back to cross the busy main road.

Sophie had timed it just right. A flying visit to Waitrose, back home to unpack and she was back at the school gates for eleven o'clock. As she stepped outside her chilled four by four, the heat hit her with a rush. She snapped her sunglasses on, rubbed lip-gloss off her teeth and marched towards the school, swaying her hips. A dusty white van passed, slowing down to reveal two dusty looking youths who wolf whistled at her. Sophie smiled slightly, revelling in the unexpected male attention. I've still got it, she thought, tossing her hair back, even though it was so politically incorrect to admit she liked the attention of workmen.

Woo hoo. Standing on the opposite side of the road, waving enthusiastically was Sophie's friend Amber. Amber was two years older than Sophie, tall and elegant looking with a mane of luminous, dark brown, cascading hair. She had one child who was in the same class as Josh and Jake called Angel, who was anything but. Her husband was a bank manager and they were absolutely loaded.

Hi Soph, she gushed, air kissing both cheeks. Sophie smiled, hi, she replied warmly.

Are you excited about the sports day? I am. Angel has been practising races all weekend at home, I'm exhausted. Sophie looked in surprise. Josh was too laid back to be competitive and Jake was too interested in his x-box and computer games to worry about sports day.

It should be fun, agreed Sophie politely.

I've got a new camcorder, so I can record Josh and Jake if you want me to. Amber waved an ultra slim, state of the art contraption.

Oh that's a great idea, Sophie replied, trying to create a sense of enthusiasm. She doubted whether Ryan would have the time or inclination to watch hours of blurred footage of hundreds of over excited school children. They made their way through the jostling crowds onto the school field, where an army of parents had set up camp behind the partition.

Excuse me, Amber said with a derisory curl of her lip. A windswept man in front moved a fraction to his left, giving Amber the opportunity to shove her video recorder into the gap.

This is one of Angel's, she informed Sophie with a proud grin. Sophie stood on tiptoe so she could watch six eight year olds line up obediently with plastic eggs and shiny dessert spoons. Thank goodness Josh and Jake were not participating in this one! It would definitely be a designer hand bags at dawn saga. Sophie relaxed and popped a mint humbug in her mouth.

Come on Angel, shouted Amber. Sophie waved in half-hearted support. Although she was fond of Amber, her daughter left a lot to be desired. Ryan called her the rich imp from over the bridge. Of course Sophie remonstrated, but secretly agreed. To look at her, she was certainly angelic; a round cherubic, rosy face, framed with golden ringlets and huge sapphire blue eyes. Her personality, however, was certainly devilish and that was being polite. During the reception and year one phase, Amber had been called by the head teacher on an almost weekly basis. 'Angel', had stolen from other children's bags, bullied her peers for money, cut two girls' ponytails off and called the chief dinner lady a fat frustrated bitch! She was certainly articulate, if nothing else, Sophie thought ruefully. She almost felt sorry for her teacher, Miss Marshall, bet she just loved inclusion!

Sophie watched the teachers, as they yelled instructions and cajoled the children into their places, their faces red and perspiring. She stared at their frumpy and flowery attire, wondering if they had ever heard of the word fashion.

Amber was shaking her head thinking the same thing. Dearie me, she commented, peering over her sunglasses, is that a tea dress? Sophie giggled along with her friend.

I love your playsuit darling; the colour is awesome. Amber gave her a thumbs up and Sophie grinned, feeling happy with her choice of outfit. The teachers looked so dowdy and frumpy, she thought with a shudder, and some of them looked as if they were going to combust through a mixture of heat exhaustion and stress. Overworked and underpaid, she decided, but there was no excuse for letting your appearance go, surely? Only last week, she had watched a TV programme on teaching in the modern era and had been shocked by the revelations of a newly qualified teacher's salary. Ryan had laughed, but Sophie had been shocked and red faced when she compared her husband's salary to that of a teacher. Although Sophie did concede that Ryan was extremely talented with a ball, his feet were made of gold. They should be insured, she thought with a happy smile, like Beyonce's bum or Cindy Crawford's legs. Anyway, millions of normal people had the ability to teach, but there were only a handful of truly exceptional footballers – wasn't that right?

Although they had plenty of money, Sophie considered herself normal, down to earth even. Although just lately, she had felt restless, with a sudden inclination that there was much more to life than being a footballer's wife. She reminisced on her own school days. She had been an average pupil, not very studious at all, more interested in living it large with her friends and batting her jet black voluminous lashes at the likes of Ryan O'Neill. There were a few subjects however, in which she excelled; mainly Art and English. Sophie had subsequently left Allhallows Secondary School with a handful of GCSEs and A levels. She remembered her friends being well jealous of her. An 'A' in Art and her 'A*' in English. Sophie had been coolly overjoyed, not wanting to look like a girly swot. When she was with her circle of ultra cool friends, she had been blasé, but secretly, she had been ecstatic at her English results.

English had always been her favourite subject. Since an early age, she had been a voracious reader, devouring books at the eager rate of two per week and more during the summer holidays. Before the mid teen phase, she always had her nose stuck in a book, but by the time she was fifteen, friends and partying had taken precedence and she had forgotten her much loved tomes. They lined the walls of her bedroom, gathering cobwebs and dust.

Whoop, whoop, Amber erupted, startling her so that she jumped. The hot and flustered head teacher stood in the middle of the field waving a white hankie in the air and bellowing go. Sophie peered on tiptoe. She could just make out Angel's plump frame, waddling down the field, as she cast mutinous glares at her peers, who duly fell back so she could take the lead. Sophie shook her head in disbelief and glanced at the teachers to see if they had noticed, but they were too busy chattering amongst themselves, so Sophie shrugged and clapped along to Amber's exuberant encouragement. The noise on the field had grown considerably as the six children stumbled down the field, and then suddenly, there was a shriek and Angel toppled over, landing in a crumpled heap, while the egg bounced off ahead. Good job it was plastic! Amber gasped theatrically.

Here, hold this. She shoved the camcorder into Sophie's sweaty palms, and then barged through the crowd to tug up the partition.

I'm coming darling! she called, running across the field to pick up a bellowing Angel. From nearby, someone sniggered. Sophie zoomed in the camcorder's lens, so that it magnified Amber's tight, skinny buttocks straining under the weight of her only daughter. She stifled a giggle. Then she felt a pang of guilt and turned off the contraption, with a soft click. The other children seized their chance of victory and galloped off ahead, to whoops and yells from the crowd. Amber supported a limping, wailing, red faced and furious looking Angel.

Well done Angel, Sophie called feebly. The man in front and a cluster of women to her left stared at her incredulously.

Little brat! she heard one state, with barely concealed venom, serves her right. Sophie blinked, moved away from the crowds and decided to linger at the back and await the return of her friend. After a quick glance at the wilting programme, she spotted Josh and Jake's names in the running races, right at the end. She wandered over to the refreshment tent, grabbing lemonade for herself and Amber. On the table there was an assortment of flavoured muffins, which looked delicious. She managed to avoid temptation, stuffing her notes back in her purse and moving away. As she sipped the cool refreshing drink, her mind wandered back to her own sports day. She remembered winning the three legged race with Darren Carruthers. They had been paired together because they were the smallest in the class. To her shame, they had been jeered and heckled by their classmates. God, kids were cruel! But, after weeks of practise on the school playground, they had triumphed and won. Sophie smiled at the memory, pushing her slippery glasses back up the bridge of her nose. The sun was high in the sky, beating down hotly; thankfully there was a slight breeze rustling the trees. This calls for a spot of sunbathing and Pimms, she thought with relish. Maybe she would invite Amber over for lunch and a good gossip.

Another group of children were being herded up to the start line. Jeez, it was like a military procedure, she thought with a sniff. The children looked very small and absolutely terrified. Sophie herself had always loved primary school, in fact her childhood had been pretty idyllic she ruminated, but nowadays, it was all SATS and stress on the poor kiddies. At their age, she had been happy and carefree, but now as an adult, she felt anything but. There was always so much to worry about. Carefree had been replaced with anxiety and true delight was something she only experienced when purchasing a new pair of Louboutin shoes; that feeling was even better then sex! A trip to the doctor six months ago had resulted in a short prescription of anti-depressant medication, which she was still on six months later. Some people, like her natural, organic, health mad mother, avoided prescription drugs like the plague, but Sophie was happy to take them. They calmed her jangling nerves, kept her precarious moods stable and generally perked her up. In fact, she was loath to give them up. Although she knew she really should, she couldn't keep blagging her poor, manipulated doctor forever. Also, one of the warnings of the medication was to 'avoid alcohol,' which was a big incentive to kick the meds. Sophie had therefore culminated a plan to wean herself off them and generally improve her life prospects.

She had been waiting in the doctors' surgery, on a grey, wet miserable day, when she had noticed a bright flyer advertising the city's university. A quick scan had cheered her up immensely. Words such as 'prospects', 'achievement', 'enjoyment', 'goals' had captured her attention and she was immediately drawn in. After her consultation and re-prescription, Sophie had surreptitiously snatched one up and shoved it away. Weeks had passed and she had forgotten all about it. Then, one warm, sunny, Sunday morning while cleaning the car, she had found it crumpled in the glove compartment and stood there for a while, on their vast driveway, reading it over again, as it fluttered in the light breeze. Ryan had been away for the weekend, on a friendly football tournament to Ireland. So Sophie had fired up her laptop and had spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon studying the university's website. Excitement had coursed through her as she navigated to the English course structure and read over it. Then, on the spur of the moment, an impulsive madness had taken hold and she had quickly completed the online application, sending it flying off into cyberspace, with trembling fingers.

That had been about six weeks ago and since then, she had heard nothing, which spoke volumes really, she thought; they must have rejected her application. Not enough 'A' levels maybe she pondered. Would two be sufficient, when compared with the fresh school leavers of today, who left with three and four. Or maybe they had recognised her name and had a good laugh about it. Imagine it, a footballer's wife at uni. Sophie gulped down her lemonade and pushed the negative thoughts aside. Silly dreams, that's all they were. Just then Amber came bounding over, panting and puffing. Sophie passed her the drink wordlessly and listened as she complained bitterly and loudly about the unfairness of the egg and spoon race. She could see Josh and Jake sheltering from the fierce heat underneath a large oak tree, with a group of their friends. It was nearly time for their race. She pulled Amber up to the partition, with her camcorder in tow. They were moving towards the starting point. Sophie was mortified to see Josh picking his nose and Jake looking as nonchalant as ever. They had managed to squeeze into a good position, so Sophie could clap and cheer her boys, as they ran their hearts out in the relay race, winning easily. Sophie watched in delight as they high fived their team mates. They had always been good at running, she thought proudly, although as yet, they hadn't shown much interest in footy, much to Ryan's chagrin. The other races passed quickly with her boys excelling, coming first and a very respectable second.

Sophie wiped away beads of perspiration from her brow. She felt that she herself had run the races and was relieved that another sports day was over. Another one that Ryan had missed, she thought sadly.

You wanna watch this tonight with Ryan? Asked Amber, waving her camcorder.

Sophie sighed, there's no rush. You go ahead and enjoy it with Martin.

Amber shrugged, tucking it away in her designer handbag.

Hey, do you fancy coming over for a Pimms lunch? We could walk and get the kids from school.

Amber's eyes brightened, great idea, she replied, then wrinkled her nose. Forget walking though, I'll get the Au Pair to pick the kids up. She fished in her bag for her mobile and began yelling instructions into the phone. Sophie smiled. What the heck, she deserved an afternoon off from motherly duties.

Hell yes, she answered. Linking arms with her friend, they strode off in the direction of their gleaming, waiting cars, giggling like school girls.

Back at home, she searched in the fridge for the Pimms. Luckily, there was almost a full bottle, thank god! She hunted around until she found the lemonade then squashed it in, removing a bottle of cabbage water in the process and binning it. The diet was out the window for the next hour, she thought with glee. There was a sudden noise and Sophie almost jumped out of her skin, as she noticed the housekeeper hovering in the doorway, a yellow duster in her hand.

Hello Mrs O'Neill, you back early.

Sophie glanced her way nodding, yes, she replied.

Her mother had always warned her about becoming too friendly with the staff.

They take advantage, she had snapped, even though she herself lived alone and had no staff to worry about. Sophie had taken heed however, although to be fair, Helga was very polite and hardworking and that was how Sophie intended it to stay. She chewed her lip thoughtfully. Could you please make two salads for lunch Helga, she stated, rather than asked. The housekeeper's nostrils flared.

Is Heidi mam.

Sophie batted away the correction.

Yes, yes Heidi…erm, with extra cheese and Branston.

There was a silent pause. Sophie turned to stare icily at the housekeeper, whose face had turned pink.

I…I, finish at twelve, she indicated at the clock.

Sophie looked up. Well you have another five minutes yet, that's plenty of time, she snapped.

Heidi paused then nodded, okay Mam, I make quickly, but then I go…I pick up granddaughter from how you say – nuture?

Nursery, Sophie corrected with a sigh. Okay, well you see to the salad and I will slice the bread. Sophie theatrically removed a crusty loaf from its wrapper, then sliced it clumsily, placing it next to a pot of butter and Branston.

As Heidi whizzed expertly around the kitchen, Sophie instructed.

The best Royal Doulton plates please and the crystal wine goblets. Sophie noticed the housekeeper peer at her a few times and if she wasn't mistaken, there was a definite unattractive curl to her lip. Maybe it was time she got herself a nice English housekeeper, she thought spitefully. Ryan seemed to love her though and the feeling was definitely mutual. Heidi couldn't do enough for him, granddaughter or not!

As Heidi was covering the food with cling film, the doorbell chimed.

Okay, you can finish, Sophie decided crisply, please let Mrs Lavelle in on your way out.

Thank you mam, have a nice lunch, the housekeeper replied, with an exaggerated bow to her head. Sophie tutted crossly, but decided to leave it this once. She busied herself, covering the bread, just as Amber sauntered into the kitchen.

Hi babe, Amber air kissed both cheeks. This is lovely, as she motioned to the food, with one perfectly manicured finger. Sophie tried to hide her chewed nail varnish under a napkin.

Just something nice I put together for us, she replied with a bright smile. What was a little white lie between friends!

Amber gripped her arm, Is the dressing low-cal honey? There was a worried look across her thin face.

Of course, Sophie nodded, wide eyed, as if she had just been asked if the sky was blue.

Phew, breathed Amber, only there's a big banker's luncheon coming up and I've got my eye on this amazzzzing size six Versace dress.

The two women clattered into the garden, armed with the plates of food. When she had settled Amber at the luxurious garden furniture, Sophie meandered back inside for the booze and the ice bucket. On the way out she grabbed the mail, which was perched on the breakfast bar.

This is amazing, Amber commented, as she hungrily devoured the salad, the salmon is to die for.

Sophie smiled at her friend's enthusiasm. Tugging the top off the Pimms with a flourish, she poured the frothing liquid into the goblets.

It's one of Gordon Ramsey's Cordon Bleu range, she couldn't help but brag. They ate their lunch quickly, as both were famished. Sophie looked through the mail; bills, bills, takeaway fliers, bills, more bills and oh what was this? Sophie's eyes widened at the university symbol on the white rectangle envelope. She dropped her cutlery with a clatter and with shaking hands, tore open the envelope, pulling out the single piece of paper with the elaborate crest at the top. OMG, her application had been successful! Sophie coughed and took a large swig of Pimms.

You okay Soph? Amber asked, peering over the rim of her Prada sunglasses. Sophie nodded, with a wide grin.

"I've been accepted